


Patricide

by TheSawisFamily



Category: Subspecies (1991)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Gen, Revenge, Vampires, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSawisFamily/pseuds/TheSawisFamily
Summary: Centuries after learning the truth of his birth and being cast into exile, Radu returns to Castle Vladislas to settle with the king. A different take on the opening scene to Subspecies.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Patricide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DesdemonaAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaAngel/gifts).



Soon, he would be dead, and his son would take his place.

The withered monarch sat on his throne, which had been constructed in his prime. Days long gone. Vlad’s adorned monk like robe did little to hide his frail form. His skeletal fingers caressed the bloodstone, his prize, seeking the hint of warmth as a last comfort in his final hours. The nails once used to ward off attackers bent onwards, threatening his own papery skin.

Vlad brought the bloodstone to his lips, head tilted back with his eyes closing in bliss at the hot, sanguine taste on his tongue. The elixir’s potency had never faded, the buzzing sensation enveloping his body the same as it had from the first drop five centuries ago.

Back then, he had a thriving castle with Helena at his side and a young Stefan at his feet. The vampire population based in Prejmer aided the humans, an unprecedented event in their history, but, perhaps, provided mostly in defense of what they considered their own land. The invasion risked what they knew, but it did not matter, would not matter. The mass of his kindred fled the village for Bucharest in search of the underground city.

Now his castle, like himself, stood only as a reminder of the past.

In reflection of his life and impending death, he had wrote to Stefan, his youngest son, who he had not seen in a number of years. It would be on the night of the festival, the commemoration of his highest achievement, that Vlad would pass his legacy onto his successor.

Perhaps he knew what was to come.

His legacy as a peacemaker had not extended into his personal endeavors.

The woman had bewitched him with her flaming orange hair and sharp blue eyes, daring him. His stomach clenched, his breathing uneasy.

He had been different then. Blood and power the only thoughts on his mind. And Circe as his consort complimented those goals with her beauty and talents.

To say he was surprised when she announced an heir was to be would be an understatement. Not that he was unhappy, though. At least, not then.

It fell apart midway through her pregnancy. The swelling of her stomach had recently appeared in the gowns Vlad had commissioned for her. Gold and silver decked her hands and neck. One curious piece stayed at her head at all times from what he could tell. A ruby circlet, which had never dislodged even as she rested. _His_ Circe, as she was then, proved to be something unexpected.

Vlad’s curiosity got the better of him. He had asked her of the piece only once before, which made her visibly uncomfortable. Circe explained only that it was a family heirloom, a sentimental jewel. That fateful night she had sat before him on their bed brushing her long, wavy locks. She smiled when he kissed her neck and wrapped an arm around her growing stomach.

In less than a moment, before he even realized what he had done, Vlad tugged off her circlet.

It was a mistake on his behalf and not the first. The beautiful temptress he had selected to reign as his queen transformed into a decrepit witch, her eyes flashing with hate. Her smooth, pale skin became a rotted gray, her small hands now mangled and gnarled. Circe shot off the bed, the accusation strong in her now unfamiliar, rough voice.

“So, now you know the truth, _dear!”_

Circe laughed at nothing in particular. Vlad stared and his hand tightened around the enchanted jewel.

“Unhand me my possession,” she demanded, one hand resting where their heir grew.

Vlad grounded himself back to the present and away from the revelation. He had loved Circe at one point as the divine ruler he once was. But upon learning of her true state, the guards of his castle were to dispose of their queen to the dungeons beneath his feet.

It was there that their son was born. Vlad had spared only a mere glance, too repelled to fully inspect his would-be successor. The boy took after his mother in some regards, but the child proved not to be the creature from repeated nightmares plaguing his father’s sleep. The babe had not bitten the midwives or been born with wings. But he could not stay.

It was wrong, but for many centuries, it seemed Vlad had made the right choice. In trading his firstborn to the nobles, he ensured his next son would be nothing like Circe’s corrupted spawn. As for his former consort, following the birth, Vlad released her from bondage on the agreement she would never reveal their secret nor would she search for their lost son.

The boy was never to know and she was to never find him. But it had happened.

The mere infant he once saw from the frightened midwife’s arms had invaded the Vladislas homestead centuries later demanding the bloodstone and welding the vampire slayer, a creation from Circe’s family. A bewildered Stefan had turned to his father in silent question.

His firstborn, dubbed Radu as the nobles selected, had good form from his training. The henchmen he selected were also well-prepared, but they were no match for the seasoned castle guards. 

Radu’s defeat would only be temporary and Vlad understood this. The dejected heir had left Prejmer in exile, violating the order only once decades ago. As for Radu’s co-conspirator, Vlad ordered Circe to be entombed in a crypt just outside Bucharest. 

Vlad stood from the throne, hands bracing the chair’s arms for support. He made his way over to the mantle where the endless fire crackled, the only sound in the entire castle. Stefan’s visit would be tomorrow, and then the king would enter his permanent death sleep at ease knowing Stefan would prove a worthy heir with his training.

His aching body stilled as he detected a nearing presence.

Stefan had arrived early?

With his back to the doorway, Vlad missed the shadow of the long fingers reflecting off the wall.

“Father.”

His blood turned cold. It was his son, but not Stefan. The king slowly turned and took in his son’s ghoulish figure clad in all black, eyes more sunken than he remembered. Voice harsher.

The first words he said to Radu in half a millennium were not what he expected to say. “Why have you come? You were banished from this place.”

Radu’s large hands dropped to his sides as he approached.

“The night of the festival approaches.” Radu’s red lips twisted into a smile, contrasting against his pale skin. “I delight in the admiration of the peasants.”

Vlad’s eyes narrowed, feeling Radu’s gaze on the bloodstone. “A night to celebrate peace. Of which you do not know.”

Returning to his throne, the king flipped a switch, revealing a hidden compartment in the nearby wall. Radu smirked as he watched his birthright stashed away.

“Perhaps I shall leave if I am granted my due.”

Vlad peered over his shoulder, eyebrow raised in a new defiance.

Radu gave him a sickening smile, still slowly approaching. “You summoned my brother home from abroad. You think I would allow this trespass?

Vlad sat his throne once more, a sudden confidence, a sense exhilaration he had not known in years filled him to face his final adversary.

“I wish for Stefan to inherit.”

Radu’s eyes darkened, his tone even lower. One claw clenched into a fist.

“Inherit what you have denied me.”

“You aren't content to live in peace, Radu.” It was only after he stated did Vlad realize he addressed his son by name for the first time.

Like his mother, accusation blared in Radu’s voice, his body stiffened. “You denounce the creed of Aia, the Queen Mother. Your self-righteousness has poisoned your chosen one, but never me.” Radu sneered. “You fight the nature of your own kind.”

“The bloodstone has allowed unity with the villagers, but it would fuel your madness.”

Radu’s facade of humility collapsed completely, his nostrils flared and shoulders squared.

“The bloodstone is my birthright! I am a firstborn child of Aia!”

“I prayed it wouldn't be necessary to destroy you, Radu,” the king declared.

A mix of amusement and disbelief marked Radu’s countenance.

“Destroy me? As you've tried before?”

Fangs preening, Radu reached into his coat, drawing out a dagger.

Vlad’s eyes widened as panic coursed through him. One hand fell on the other lever to activate the cage directly above Radu.

Radu charged at the lord of the vampires, the cage just short of capturing him.

The knife propped under his chin tilted Vlad’s eyes to his son’s. The sudden energy boost had depleted. He was too exhausted to fight.

“Look at me, father. Look at what you've made,” Radu demanded in an oddly soft voice not matching the wickedness in his eyes.

Vlad never noticed Radu had his eyes before.

The dagger was yanked away. Vlad’s stomach lurched when Radu snapped off three digits on his free hand with a echoing crunch. The broken tips twitched on the stone floor as the blood pooled into a gel, in which a series of small, red creatures erupted.

Radu’s lips remained close, but Vlad heard a whisper of his son’s raspy voice. A creature, the only one with horns, nodded. The beings then climbed onto the throne while Vlad moved to shove them off.

Vlad cried out in sudden pain, face contorting in agony. Blood pooled in his mouth, a growing stinging pain in his stomach. Radu, who kept his hand on the blade, now retracted it from his father, his abused fingers now regenerated. The subspecies turned the switch, opening the hidden compartment.

Radu’s blood lust fogged his mind with the Bloodstone now in sight, the promised taste of saints’ blood calling to him, but he grinned as he remembered to savor this night. The bloody dagger was held to the ailing Vlad’s lips.

“Perhaps you are hungry, father. You require sustenance?”

The King's tongue darted to lap up his own blood, but before he could begin to consume, Radu jerked the dagger away.

“You've denied me...”

The dagger brought to his own lips, he drank the blood of his own father, his sire.

“As I shall do the same...”

Radu glanced down. His infallible minions clutched the bloodstone.

“My most faithful companions, you deserve a reward.”

He laughed as he accepted his coveted prize.

Turning on his heel, Radu faced his father. “Think of this as you die.”

His claws held the bloodstone to his lips, sipping greedily as the excess streamed down his chin.

Tonight would mark the beginning of Radu’s reign. Feeling the power growing inside him, Radu looked down at his creatures again. They peered up with a sense of childlike innocence despite their shared penance for blood.

“Your troubles deserve a proper prize,” Radu announced, sounding more like a pleased parent than scorned son.

Radu’s eyes locked with Vlad’s. The subspecies heard their master’s command. The head of the creatures, Lothim, nodded. The monsters invaded the throne, Lothim guiding.

Screams were the last utterances of King Vlad, Lord of the Vampires. Radu’s pets ate from him as their master left the throne room with the bloodstone rightfully in his care.


End file.
